Inland Revenue letter published in the Guardian some years back

Dear Mr Addison,
I am writing to you to express our thanks for your more than prompt reply to our latest communication, and also to answer some of the points you raise. I will address them, as ever, in order. Firstly, I must take issue with your description of our last as a "begging letter". It might perhaps more properly be referred to as a "tax demand". This is how we, at the Inland Revenue have always, for reasons of accuracy; traditionally referred to such documents.

Secondly, your frustration at our adding to the "endless stream of crapulent whining and panhandling vomited daily through the letterbox on to the doormat" has been noted. However, whilst I have naturally not seen the other letters to which you refer I would cautiously suggest that their being from "pauper councils, Lombardy pirate banking houses and pissant gas-mongerers" might indicate that your decision to "file them next to the toilet in case of emergencies" is at best a little ill-advised. In common with my own organisation, it is unlikely that the senders of these letters do see you as a "lackwit bumpkin” or, come to that, a "sodding charity". More likely they see you as a citizen of Great Britain, with a responsibility to contribute to the upkeep of the nation as a whole.

Which brings me to my next point. Whilst there may be some spirit of truth in your assertion that the taxes you pay "go to shore up the canker-blighted, toppling folly that is the Public Services", a moment's rudimentary calculation ought to disabuse you of the notion that the government in any way expects you to "stump up for the whole damned party" yourself. The estimates you provide for the Chancellor's disbursement of the funds levied by taxation, whilst colourful, are, in fairness, a little off the mark. Less than you seem to imagine is spent on "junkets for Bunterish lickspittles" and "dancing whores" whilst far more than you have accounted for is allocated to, for example, "that box-ticking façade of a university system."

A couple of technical points arising from direct queries:
1. The reason we don't simply write "Muggins" on the envelope has to do with the vagaries of the postal system;
2. You can rest assured that "sucking the very marrows of those with nothing else to give" has never been considered as a practice because even if the Personal Allowance didn't render it irrelevant, the sheer medicallogistics involved would make it financially unviable.

I trust this has helped. In the meantime, whilst I would not in any way wish to influence your decision one way or the other, I ought to point out that even if you did choose to "give the whole foul jamboree up and go and live in India" you would still owe us the money.

Please forward it by Friday.

Yours Sincerely,
H J Lee
Customer Relations

“The Hardship of Accounting”

by Robert Frost:

Never ask of money spent

Where the spender thinks it went.

Nobody was ever meant

To remember or invent

What he did with every cent.

With thanks to Emily Coltman for flagging this up.

Yorkshire Airlines

Although not an accountancy joke I was introduced to this at a professional networking event for suppliers of services to accountants - organised by SWAT. It's also topical as my son is at Leeds University.

(The video lasts 2 minutes)

Gullable is now spelled like that

A daily list of new discoveries that are not true – they just sound as if they might be!

http://www.gullible.info

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Vicar Of Dibley marries an accountant

According to the viewer stats, on Xmas day more Brits watched The Vicar of Dibley than any other TV programme.
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This most British of sitcoms involved the Vicar getting married (eventually) to her sweetheart who was an accountant - for reasons I nver found out. It didn't seem to be an integral part of the plot.

However his profession did permit an old accountancy joke to be heard by millions of viewer when the Vicar (played by Dawn French) asked a rhetorical question:

'What do accountants do when they're constipated? They get their pencil and work it out.'

The "Nobody Cares" Manifesto For Accountants

With thanks to Dennis Howlett:

* It's important to remember debits are on the left and credits on the right - nobody cares. Probably because the system was invented in 1494 and hasn't changed since.

* We work hard to earn letters behind our names - nobody cares. Importance isn't derived from academic achievement but what you do for others.

* ROI is an important concept - nobody cares. ROI calculations are something you do when you really don't want to help your client but to demonstrate to him/her how important you are. For which read 2.

* It's important to keep good records - nobody cares. Clients aren't in business to be administrators. If you can't figure out how to help clients then expect to be outsourced. Probably the day after tomorrow.

* A tidy office implies a tidy mind - nobody cares. A tidy mind is often compartmentalised to the point of tunnel vision. You don't see tidy at the edge of innovation. Which is where you should be when your clients come up with great ideas.

* Professionals should always wear top quality suits - nobody cares. How you look may be important if your name's Anina but it sure as heck doesn't matter when you're traipsing around a pig farm. You do that occasionally don't you?

* Your professional status among the community demonstrates integrity - nobody believes you. Professional status is over-rated. Those schmuks from KPMG in court on fraud charges sorted that one out once and for all.

* Adding value is the most important thing you have to do - nobody believes you. Clients can read a 1,000 websites and see that same vacuuous statement. Stuff your website with client stories, preferably written by clients and not some PR outfit.

The Vocational Guidance Counsellor Sketch

This is the classic Monty Python sketch about a Mr Anchovy who wanted career guidance.

Mr Anchovy was a chartered accountant who wanted to be a lion tamer but was recommended instead to stick with accountancy.

Why? Well – and I quote - because he was an appallingly dull fellow, unimaginative, timid, lacking in initiative, spineless, easily dominated, no sense of humour, tedious company and irrepressibly drab and awful.

And, concluded the report, whereas in most professions these would be considerable drawbacks, in chartered accountancy they are a positive boon.

This sketch was first broadcast on 21 Decemeber 1969 as part of episode 10 of the first series of Monty Python's Flying Circus. Michael Palin played Mr Anchovy and John Cleese was the Vocational Guidance Counsellor.